


Communion

by WildKitte



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Closure, Dinner, Gen, Post-Canon, Regret, Reunions, Team Dynamics, i have now created shibayama & taketora tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15364089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: Nekoma team meets up for a dinner that's long overdue. Shibayama thinks back to high school, how it ended, and what time does, to people and old regrets.Written for the Nekoma Zine





	Communion

**Author's Note:**

> I was invited to the Nekoma Zine last year and it was such a fun, if a bit stressful experience! I haven't written much Nekoma before but I found it fun and completely fell in love with Shibayama. Thank you for the opportunity!

 

Shibayama shifted nervously.

He checked again if this was the right apartment, number 26, and then he stared at the doorbell, summoning courage to ring it. The container in his hands was starting to burn his fingers. He should've taken some kind of bag for this.

 

He could still leave. He hadn't seen these people in two years. They wouldn't mind if he cancelled last minute. Or would they? Shibayama drew in a deep breath and took a hesitant step back.

 

He was robbed of his choice when the door opened and Kuroo-senpai leaned on the doorframe.

”You came!” he said, delighted, and ushered him in. ”I saw you from the window. Come, the others are waiting.”

Shibayama blushed, slightly embarrassed and grateful that Kuroo didn't comment on his nervous fiddling at the door, and stepped in.

”Sorry for the intrusion,” he mumbled as he removed his shoes. ”Am I the last one?”

”No, we're still waiting for Tora and Fukunaga,” Kuroo said and handed him a pair of guest slippers. ”There are drinks on the table, Kenma is still in the kitchen.”

 

Shibayama followed him deeper into the apartment. It was bigger than his, as it obviously housed two people, and surprisingly not as outrageously decorated as Shibayama would've imagined Kuroo's house to be. The living room had a wide, if slightly scratched, sofa, and a big tv with multiple gaming consoles stacked underneath. On said sofa sat Yaku, Lev and Inuoka, furiously playing Mario Kart.

 

”How can you suck this bad?” Yaku sighed, exasperated, as Lev slid off the road, which seemed to be a regular occurrence. Inuoka just laughed, proudly defending third place himself.

”Hi, guys,” Shibayama addressed them shyly with a wave. All three whipped their heads to look at him and beamed.

”Yuuki!” Lev and Inuoka yelled simultaneously, grinning wide. Lev's Baby Peach slipped off the road again and he cursed.

”Did you bring food?” Yaku asked, pointing at the food container. Shibayama looked down, he had almost forgotten.

”Uh, yeah,” he stuttered.

”Bring it here,” Kenma's voice called from the kitchen.

 

The kitchen was small, built to accommodate about one and a half people, and Shibayama tripped on a black cat at the doorway.

”Sorry,” he apologised to the cat. Kenma rolled his eyes, with a hint of a smile.

”Don't worry, he loves being on the way,” he said as Shibayama handed him the container. ”What did you bring?”

”Taiyaki, from work,” Shibayama said. ”Matcha cream, custard and chocolate filling. There might be some anko too.”

”Bless you,” Kuroo shouted as he went past, scooping the cat in his arms. ”I see you already met Asshat the Third.”

”Ass-?”

”It's not his real name.” Kenma didn't elaborate further.

 

”Yuuki, come play,” Inuoka called for him.

”Uh,” Shibayama said, and glanced at Kenma, feeling conflicted.

”Go, I'm almost ready,” Kenma said. He was tending to a bubbling kettle of broth for the shabu shabu and it did indeed look like he was handling it. Shibayama nodded obediently and fled.

 

”There is a fourth controller,” Inuoka said as Shibayama plopped on the chair near the sofa. In theory he could've probably fit on the sofa with the others, but he felt a little jittery.

Intruding.

_It doesn't make sense_ , Shibayama told himself as he connected his controller. He absent-mindedly chose a character and set out to play.

He hadn't played Mario Kart in years.

 

It felt weird spending time, sitting with these people again – he remembered how Kuroo-senpai had sometimes organized evenings like this with Kai-senpai. ”Team bonding” he had called it, though Yaku-senpai said it was more like ”just an excuse to eat shit and make his mom pay”.

Both of them were right. Kenma, in Shibayama's second year, confirmed that it indeed was an excuse, but none of them could deny that watching horror movies together and screaming so loud that neighbours banged on the walls lifted team spirit. Shibayama remembered his first time, clinging to Taketora-senpai's arm and regretting it as his senpai ended up either laughing or screaming the loudest, which was almost scarier than the movie itself.

And sometimes they played Mario Kart. Kai-senpai was the unbeatable king of Mario Kart, and Kenma (begrudgingly) right after him. It seemed like Lev was still just as bad as he had always been.

 

”Best of five?”

”Best of five.”

 

 

During round four, Tora and Fukunaga arrived.

”Yooo!” Tora roared.

”Sorry we're late,” Fukunaga said.

Lev skidded off the road again and groaned pathetically. Inuoka laughed at him and cast out a deadly accurate blue shell.

”Are you playing Mario-” Taketora started, and then his eyes blew wide. ”Yuuki!”

Shibayama froze, and then came back to life with a blink.

”Uh,” he said. ”Hi.”

”Where have you been hiding?” Tora demanded, almost stepping over himself as he removed his shoes.

”Calm down, senpai,” Kuroo snickered, and smacked him with the guest slippers. Shibayama didn't know what to say, so he concentrated on the screen, finishing fourth after Yaku-senpai and Inuoka. As Fukunaga plopped down on the arm of his chair, Shibayama pushed his controller to him, his face heating.

”I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, and fled.

He could hear how the noise died down in the living room, and then he heard another smack.

”Ow! What was that for?” Taketora groaned.

”You scared him away, dumbass.”

 

Taketora had, objectively, been a good captain.

Kenma had vehemently refused to become the captain after Kuroo-senpai, to Kuroo-senpai's great dismay, but was pleased with his position as a vice captain. ”Being the captain is too much work,” he had said, and everyone left it at that.

 

Taketora had taken them to the nationals.

They lost their second game, not even against Karasuno but another, unimportant, nameless team. While all of them had been upset, the loss felt like the end of the world to Shibayama. Filling Yaku-senpais shoes was not easy and this had been his opportunity to show everyone that he was worthy of the title _Nekoma's libero_. No one blamed him directly, but if he had been _a little bit_ faster, _a little bit_ more agile, _a little bit_ earlier in position... It had been obvious that most of their lost points had come from his sloppy receives. No one said it directly; Taketora-senpai patted him on the back and said ”do better next year, revenge us” (as if high school volleyball was some kind of afternoon drama) but hadn't hidden his bitter tears as the third years bid farewell to the club.

 

Shibayama injured himself during third year right before Spring High.

Once again, he found himself watching the games from the sidelines.

 

*

 

There were three rooms at the end of the corridor, past the kitchen. Kenma didn't say a word as Shibayama shuffled past him, only the black cat sprawled at the doorway glanced up at him lazily. Shibayama stared at the doors, all of them identical, and then he opened the one on his right.

It was not the bathroom.

 

Kai-senpai sat up blearily on Kuroo's bed and yawned.

”Shibayama?” he said, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

”S-sorry!” Shibayama squeaked, raising his hands defensively. ”I was looking for the bathroom, I'm sorry!”

”It's fine, I was awake already,” Kai-senpai said with a reassuring smile. He yawned. ”Sorry, I just finished my last rotations at the hospital for this semester. Kuroo let me nap here before the dinner.”

”That's kind of him,” Shibayama said, not knowing how to react. His hands were sweaty.

”He's always kind.”

Kuroo-senpai truly was, as much as he didn't seem like the type.

Kai-senpai was even kinder, with his reassuring smiles and relaxed posture as he watched Shibayama from the bed.

 

”It's the one at the end.”

”Huh?” Shibayama shook his head to clear his thoughts.

”The bathroom,” Kai-senpai repeated patiently. ”It's the one at the end. Next door.”

”Ah,” Shibayama said, and flushed in embarrassment. Kai-senpai was still looking at him, assessing him quietly, and then he asked:

”Are you alright?”

 

_No_ , Shibayama wanted to say, but couldn't, so he smiled.

”Yes. I'm fine. I'll go to the bathroom now.”

With a bow he ducked out of the room and escaped to the bathroom, closing the door maybe a tad too loud.

 

Shibayama stared at his reflection. He hunched over the sink, squinting at the drain, wondering if he could somehow squeeze through it and escape to the sea. He looked back up.

He looked pathetic. He had remnants of dark circles under his eyes and he was still blushing, face blotched with pink. No wonder Kai-senpai had seen right through him.

 

Shibayama let the water run from the tap and after some consideration, he splashed his face with the cold water. What was he doing, hiding from everyone and bolting around like a scared cat? Except even Kuroo and Kenma's cat was more relaxed than he was.

 

He hadn't really kept contact with anyone. It had been difficult, swallowing down the disappointment and shame of the disastrous end of his third year. And then it boiled down to this: besides volleyball, did they, Nekoma, have anything in common?

In a way they didn't. Then again, Shibayama hadn't been able to form bonds similar to what they had had, in college or elsewhere. They weren't maybe the best of friends, and didn't hang out much outside of school and practice except for mandatory school outings and Kuroo's movie nights, but they were _a team_. On the court, they just _clicked_ , it felt right, and he truly, once, belonged there, with them. And back when he wasn't allowed much on the court he enjoyed being in the sidelines, watching the magical rhythm of his senpais' plays, how they would pick up the ball no matter what, keep it in the air.

 

Shibayama watched his reflection, water dripping at the ends of his bangs.

 

So what was different now?

 

*

 

The rest of the team were already clambering for the table as Kenma wobbled in with steaming pot filled with vegetables and mushrooms and Kuroo brought the the thinly sliced beef.

”Voilà,” Kuroo grinned, and the boys cheered.

 

The shabu shabu was heavenly – it was hot, the smell of the food mouth-watering; the meat was soft and almost melted on Shibayama's tongue, the carrots smooth and juicy, the mushrooms delicious and the broth to _die_ for. The conversation around the table was loud, relaxed – Shibayama listened to them talk, trying to think of something to say.

For a numb moment it felt like Shibayama was experiencing it all trapped behind a wall of glass. Every noise was muted, and he hoped no one could see the slices of carrot slipping from his chopsticks. There was a certain, detached kind of disconnect here – in theory he knew it wouldn't have taken much to knock the wall down. There _was_ no wall, just Shibayama himself, his dumb muted mouth, and an aching phantom pain in his shoulder that had long faded.

 

Kuroo turned from his sly needling (disguised as idle conversation) with Taketora to him.

”So, how's volleyball these days?” Kuroo asked. Yaku choked and Kenma looked like he was ready to slap the ex-captain. It surely felt like _Shibayama_ had been slapped, the sting of the question making his ears ring.

Shibayama swallowed heavily and as he looked up everyone was staring at him.

”I don't play anymore,” he said. He set his chopsticks down, trying not to frown. ”Not since – you know. Haven't had time. Between school and the taiyaki shop.”

Kuroo a little chastised, his smile awkward. Taketora was frowning. Shibayama tried not to look at him.

 

”Me neither,” said Fukunaga, nonchalantly. Everyone's eyes snapped on him. ”I ruined my knees.” He then shoveled more food in his mouth. Kuroo-senpai grinned.

”That's what happens when you grow old.”

Lev clapped Shibayama on the back and on his other side, Inuoka nudged him. Sat between his former classmen, the tension in his shoulders, the anxiety and doubt, melted away.

”The food is delicious,” Shibayama said bashfully and dipped another slice of beef in the broth.

Kenma's smile was small but brilliant.

 

*

 

After meal, there was more Mario Kart and Kenma and Kai-senpai got competitive, wiping the floor with everyone else. Kai-senpai was ever-smiling, unassuming and diligent, but the promise of Mario Kart championship turned even his eyes gleamy with greed for victory.

 

Shibayama was leaning on the railing in the balcony, a tiny thing tucked away at the corner of the living room. His glass was almost empty, remnants of his soda sizzling in the bottom. The sun had set already, and he listened to the hum of the traffic, watching the neighbourhood bathed in nightlights.

 

He lifted his head as the door behind him slid open.

Taketora greeted him with his own beer bottle and a can of soda that he threw at Shibayama. Shibayama caught it, fumbling, and Taketora grinned.

 

They stood there together, in silence, slightly awkward but also buzzed and warm from the meal, and the loud yells of their teammates.

”I lost again,” Taketora said. Shibayama smiled.

”I'm sorry to hear that.” He bit back the almost automatic ' _senpai_ '.

 

”It wasn't your fault, yanno.”

Shibayama blinked, once, twice, dumbfounded. Taketora was scowling, his arms crossed on the railing as he leaned forward. He looked awfully serious, and a little wistful. It was an odd look on him.

”You weren't responsible for the last match. Or your injury. There was nothing to ' _revenge_ ' either. It was a selfish request from a selfish senpai.” He dragged his hand through his mohawk. ”I don't want you to carry it anymore.”

Shibayama gazed at him for a moment, taking in his apologetic demeanor and the ridiculous haircut he'd had since high school.

He burst out in laughter.

”So serious!” he giggled.

Taketora groaned, nudging his elbow in Shibayama's side.

”C'mon, that was my cool and motivational senpai moment! You ruined it!”

”It was very mature and impressive,” Shibayama nodded, smile still pulling at his mouth while he held his throbbing side – Taketora-senpai was as strong as ever.

”I'm gonna carry it just a little bit.”

Taketora flashed him an apologetic but understanding smile.

 

”Too serious!” he exclaimed then. ”I'm going to go and try beating that bastard one more time!” This _bastard_ probably being Kai-senpai, who deducing from Kenma's souring expression was winning.

Shibayama was glad to see his senpai still had the habit of bashing his head against a brick wall until it gave.

 

Some things changed, and that was inevitable. High school was never going to last forever, as much as he might've wished for or feared that. Eventually they all had to move on – but it didn't mean losing the connection.

As long as the ball was in the air, as long as the connection was still there, nothing else mattered. If it could be connected, the game wasn't over yet. Shibayama peered over his shoulder as Taketora slammed the balcony door shut and stepped into the warm chaos of what used to be the Nekoma team, he could feel that pull still there, deep inside him.

 

He just had to allow himself to _click_.

 

*

 

”Oh god,” Lev moaned as he bit into the taiyaki and the first taste of custard flowed on his tongue. ”I would abandon volleyball for this too!”

Kenma snorted and Yaku burst out in laughter.

”You have like zero tact, oh my god!”

”Look who's talking!” Kuroo threw a napkin at him.

”There's more,” Shibayama said, and handed the taiyaki plate to Kai-senpai, who took another one gratefully.

”It's weird to eat them at home like this,” Kenma mumbled, munching on his matcha-filled fish.

”We can lock you outside if you want,” Kuroo said simply, and then yelped as he was kicked in the shin.

”Are there any chocolate ones left?” Inuoka whined.

”One.”

”I'm taking that,” Taketora hurled himself across the table, fighting off Inuoka's grabby hands, until Fukunaga snagged the pastry right under their noses with a smug smile on his face.

 

Shibayama laughed out loud. His head was light with the sugar-high, and the company of his team, ex-team, whatever. It ran in his veins, flowing without stopping. Kept the oxygen moving and mind working.

It was happiness, unrestrained.

 

*

 

Shibayama pulled his shoes on. Yaku-senpai was yelling at Lev outside – he had promised to drive them both home, since they lived in the same direction. There was a certain kind of relieved contentment unfurling in his chest. He hummed the Mario Kart theme under his breath.

”Yuuki-kun,” said Kuroo suddenly, lurking at the doorway. Shibayama's head shot up.

”Y-yeah?”

”Don't be a stranger,” Kuroo said with a smirk. ”You can always visit.”

Shibayama stared up at him and then behind him, where Kenma stood holding Asshole The Third. He listened to his former team mates bickering outside, and a smile grew from the warmth in his chest.

”Alright,” Shibayama said.

 

For once it felt like he meant it.

 

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that when I wrote this Fukunaga hadn't said a single word in the manga
> 
> Leave a kudos and comment if you like!
> 
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@wildkittewrites](http://wildkittewrites.tumblr.com/)


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